


Horizon's Curve

by rhymeswithmonth



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 16-Year-Old Harry, 1d as a team of dragon riders, Alternate Universe- Dragon Riders, Dragon Riders, Dragons, M/M, eighteen-year-old Louis, yet another inspired by invisibleleinnocence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhymeswithmonth/pseuds/rhymeswithmonth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At sixteen every youth in the village must go into the Hive and have his soul judged by the dragon queen. Those who are worthy are allowed to leave peacefully, the unworthy are chased out. Sinners never leave. </p><p>But those purest of heart receive a gift; they leave the hive with a companion, and from then on they are a Rider. Obligated by law to swear service to the King they must report to the Capitol to train in the Rider Corps. </p><p> </p><p>It is Harry Styles' sixteenth birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horizon's Curve

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this is heavily inspired by tumblr user invisibleinnocence's dragon rider comics. I loosely based the boys' dragons' appearances off of the original comics. So much credit to them for the idea.

The Hive.

Sheer walls of metamorphic rock cut down deep onto the earth, the mouth of the maw too wide to throw a stone across. Thick tree roots dangle over the edge, zig-zagging down the black surface and disappearing into shadow. It's a hundred foot drop to the bottom, where a lake of hot water lies quietly steaming a pearly haze of sulphur over the sediment-murky surface

Branching off from the main chamber are unknown kilometers of tunnels, both dry and flooded. Only a small percentage have been explored, and what has been recorded by the brave few is the stuff of myths and legends. There are accounts of great chambers made from snow-white crystals, spiraling passages lined with glowing fungus, the pools that bubble and host all manner of creatures. And of course, the dragons.

The dragons spend most of their time in the deepest tunnels, where it's warm and close to the soft molten rock that heats the catacomb. But they venture out regularly, traveling to the surface for each day's hunt, or stretching their legs in the roomier upper tunnels. There's all breeds living here, as it's the second largest colony in England after the London hive. From flocks of Common Long-Wings to extremely rare Two-Headed Firebolts. Name a dragon and you're bound to find it here. 

This is Harry's home for the next week.

He has company for most of the journey to the cave, he's the first in the village to turn sixteen this year so dozens of people turn up to form a noisy caravan through the snowy forest. Harry walks squeezed between his mother and sister, their arms locked around his waist, clutching at the folds of his jacket. 

As they make their way along the winding path, the flora around them gradually changes. With each step the air seems to grow warmer, the crisp snow sags, icicles loose their grasp on branches and drip fat droplets to the ground. Faint birdsong echoes from ahead as they pass the tips of grass beginning to peek through the snow. At last they reach the snow line, where the patchy slush trails off and the green of spring reclaims the forest floor. The convoy halts there, their heels dug into the mud. Harry says his goodbyes to his friends and cousins before embracing his mother and sister. They're both crying but trying to hide it, their damp cheeks pushing against his as they smother him with kisses. Harry does his best to reassure them, although he's on the verge of tears himself. 

Robin gently clasps his shoulder, eyes regretful, to tell his it's time. Harry swallows tightly and shrugs off his jacket, pulling his thick wool sweater over his head, leaving him in his thin tunic and leggings. His mum takes the bundle from him with trembling hands and tries to smile, but her lower lip quivers and gives her away. He kisses her once more, lets Gemma ruff his hair and turns away to follow Robin into the lush green of the Forest of Endless Summer. 

It's another half hour of hiking before they reach the cave. The air here is humid and hot, the plant life unlike anything Harry's ever seen before. There are ferns as tall as he is and snake-like vines looping off the trees. Rainbow flowers bloom all around, and the low drone of insects fill the air. Damp, yellow moss clings to every surface making the path slippery. At the edge of the pit the air rises in swirling eddies that smell faintly of over-boiled egg. 

Harry and Robin turn to each other, and the older man breaks the solemn silence that they've held since parting ways with the rest of the group. "Best not to dawdle. The sun'll be setting within the hour and you want to find shelter before the swarm comes in from the hunt."

Harry nods jerkily and sheds the rest of his clothes without ceremony. It's so warm in the caves that he won't need any more than his thin undergarments. Robin tucks the rest away into his bag and sighs heavily. "Harry." He says, his voice rough. "I know...it should be your father here today, guiding you on this momentous occasion. But I just want you to know, how honored I am to be with you right now. I love you like my own son and I'm so proud of you."

Harry shudders a laugh that comes out more like a hiccup. "Me too." He chokes. "You-you're like my dad in every way that matters. I'm glad you're with me."

Robin nods, blinking to hide the wetness in his eyes. They walk together to one of the trees clinging closest to the cliff. It is thick and firmly rooted despite its precarious home, and the ropes tied around the truck equally so. Robin unwinds it and helps Harry step into the harness at the end. The straps droop loosely around his thin thighs and chafe the skin under his arms. 

"Remember to mark your path." Robin says as he helps Harry shoulder the leather rucksack full of dried meat and berries, a vial of rubbing alcohol, bandages, torches and a flint. "There'll be markers already there but don't rely on those. Make up your own, write your name, draw a picture, it doesn't matter as long as you can find your way back. Test every pool you come across to make sure it's clean, and refill your water-skin as often as possible. Don't try to eat any of the plants, you have enough food there to make it to the end if you ration. Keep your ears open. If you hear anything that isn't your own breathing get away fast. The dragons don't often go after humans but until you find the queen there's no guarantee. Now. You know what to do once you find her? Tell me."

Harry's heart pounds in his ears. "Be respectful." He answers, parroting the words he's been told so many times. "Don't make eye contact. Bow as soon as I'm in her chamber and don't stop until I leave. She will approach me when she's ready. Even if it takes days I don't approach her. Once she comes to me I must remain still and calm, she will examine me, touch me, learn me. When she moves away again I have been accepted under her protection and I may leave without risk of being attacked."

"Good." Robin says, hands on Harry's shoulders. "I'll be right here waiting for you in seven days. And when I pull you out you'll be a man. Perhaps even a rider."

Harry can't help but scoff at that. "I won't."

"You might. There were three last year, don't rule yourself out."

Harry rolls his eyes but lets him have it. Him as a dragon rider, the thought is ridiculous. Robin embraces him one last time and then Harry moves into position, legs braced at the very edge of the cliff, weight supported by the ropes. Slowly Robin lets the slack increase, forcing him to awkwardly shuffle-hop his way down the side. After a couple meters the wall starts to slant away, and he is left dangling in mid-air. 

It feels like it takes forever, but it's probably only fifteen minutes before his toes hit the water. It's hot, almost to the point of burning, and he hurries to free himself from the harness. His finger fumble but he gets the knots undone, immediately paddling for the shore. He drags himself onto the rocky ledge and lies on his back gasping for air. It's so muggy that his lungs can't expand the whole way.

He cranes his neck up to try any see Robin, but the way the rock curves prevents him from seeing anything but sky. He allows himself a minute of rest before rolling over and climbing to his feet. Staying still for more than a minute out in the could get him killed down here. 

He needs to get moving. 

 

 

 

They learn about the dragons before they learn to walk, to speak. The hive is a integral part of their lives, it heats the land beneath their feet and makes it fertile. Even during the winter the snowfall around their village is lighter than the surrounding counties, and their fields are always the first to thaw. They grow up playing in the warm springs that dot the woods, staying healthy from the nourishing minerals. The average life-span of citizens living close to a hive is ten years longer than those who don't. They are taught that they should be thankful for these blessings, that the dragons help to keep them alive.

But they are also taught to fear. Dragons are wild beasts of fire and brimstone, and although humans aren't their preferred prey, that doesn't mean they aren't still dangerous. There are few weapons in man's arsenal that will phase a full grown dragon, spears and swords bounce off diamond-like scales, arrow shafts snap, and of course, fire only makes them stronger. In order to live in harmony with the great reptiles, they must keep building the complex dialect that their ancestors had laid down centuries ago. 

The creatures also possess keen intelligence. They do not think like humans, their brand of mentality is ancient and foreign, but it's undoubtably formidable. They can plan and strategize, set traps and predict patterns of prey and weather. They are social creatures who's society is built around a strict hierarchy of age and power. They value bravery and purity of heart, which they can read like a language. That's how they gauge the humans they encounter. 

Children are always safe from the dragons. The innocence of youth keeps them safe if they cross paths with a hunter. But at sixteen years all member of the village make the pilgrimage to present themselves to the Queen. If they are deemed acceptable they are free to leave the hive and live their lives within the territory. Occasionally a youth is refused by the queen and they retreat in shame, often the entire family relocating to a new home far away. Very rarely the pilgrim never returns, judged harshly and punished for whatever sin the dragons saw in them fit to punish.

And then there are those chosen to be riders. Every once and a while a soul will return from their journey with company. If a dragon takes a liking to your heart along the way and follows you home they have chosen you to be their lifelong companion. Riders are honored as the noblest souls, automatically granted a knighthood and obligated to report to the royal family to serve the country. Every couple of years one will emerge from the pit and ship out to London to join the national corps. 

There are around a dozen villages clustered around the. Manchester hive, and produces the most riders after London itself. They are eventually divided to squadrons and assigned regions to patrol, but during their training they all stick close to the capitol, assigned to teams of twelve. 

Captain "call me Nick" Grimshaw leads Harry through the stone archway and into a massive courtyard. Everything about the castle is huge, from the thick spike-topped wall to the soaring towers, the drafty corridors to every room that they've passed through so far. But this courtyard is by far the most impressive space yet. It would have to, Harry supposes, to fit the dragons. 

"This is the training yard." The captain says, waving a vague hand around. Harry scans the surroundings, taking in the flat dusty ground, the soot blackened stone walls, the pile of crates on the far side. "You'll be spending a lot of time here."

Harry nods without reply. He hasn't really spoken much since arriving; Captain Grimshaw probably thinks he's a half-wit by now. But he still feels so unbalanced, like he's in a permanent state of nausea, and every time he opens his mouth he's afraid he's going to vomit everywhere. So he clammed right up. 

"The others should be along any moment. I told them to be here to greet you but they're a bunch of little shites with no work ethic so no doubt they'll be late."

Harry's stomach squirms. The others, his soon to be teammates, the people he'll be spending the next two year with. He feels tiny and lonely and overwhelmed. He misses his mum.

Captain Grimshaw is a very good conversationalist, which is a good thing because Harry is being horrible company. The man seems more than happy to fill the silence on his own, chatting away, little winding anecdotes that Harry tries to pay attention to. It's about five minutes before they're interrupted by a distant shout echoing off the masonry. 

"Finally." The captain huffs, lifting a hand to his brow, shielding his eyes to peer upward. Harry follows his gaze just in time to see around a dozen silhouettes pass briefly overhead before disappearing out of view. "Bloody show-offs, give them a minute. They'll want to make an entrance."

And make an entrance they do. One by one the figures swoop through the sky, spiraling down in elegant circles to land smoothly in the field. Claws rattle and leathery hide snaps as eleven dragons settle, shaking out wings and tossing their long necks. The riders dismount and wander forward, removing their leather riding hoods, coming to form a loose semicircle in front of Harry and Captain Grimshaw. 

"About time you useless sods!" The captain exclaims, crossing his arms. His lopsided grin betrays his stern tone, and his troops roll his eyes and scoff. 

"Give it a rest Grimmy it's supposed to be our day off." A remarkably pretty brunette replies, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. "You're lucky we showed up at all."

"And you're lucky I don't put you on latrine scrubbing for your snark Miss Lloyd." Grimshaw shots back. "Get in here, come closer and meet our new recruit. That means you too Sheeran, bring it in. Everyone. This strapping young man is Harry. Harry, these brats are rookie squad 7. They'll be your family, friends, and coworkers for your time here. Harry, tell us a little about yourself?"

Shit. "Uhhm." Harry mumbles, feeling rather faint. "Hi? I'm Harry. I'm sixteen, obviously, recently of Holmes Chapel of the Manchester hive area." Twenty-two eyes stare at him, he imagines he can feel them judging him, sizing him up. And speaking of size.. "Oh! This is my dragon."

Lady rustles and grumbles, she's been happily napping since they got here. Harry crouches and prods his rucksack, reaching in to scoop her up and out of the bag. Holding her to his chest he stands back up, looking at the group in front of him. "This is Lady."

The great space of the yard amplifies the silence that follows. All of the gathered riders stare mutely at him, a collection of furrowed brows and half-open mouths. Harry feels his face heat. Lady squirms in his grip and slides out of his arms, landing gracefully on her feet and winding around his ankles, scales rough and scratchy.

"Is this a joke?" One of them finally speaks, and a boy pushes to the front. His face is crooked into a sneer, one eye scrunched and mouth half a laugh. "You're having us on right? That puny thing?"

Speechless with embarrassment Harry just shakes his head. Thankfully Captain Grimshaw steps close and claps a hand on his shoulder. "Show some respect and shut your gab! All of you snap out of it you look like buffoons. Since you're feeling chatty Tomlinson you can be the first to introduce yourself."

The boy shrugs, face still mirthful. "Alright. Louis Tomlinson. Eighteen of Doncaster, Yorkshire hive. And this is my dragon. Kevin." Kevin stalks forward, slinking out from the group to stand beside his rider. The dragon is impressive indeed, although not very large he is extremely fearsome. His entire hide is composed of deep blue spikes that shift as he moves, rising from his body to make him look bigger than he is. His slitted gold eyes fix on Harry, making him feel small and helpless, like prey. Even his wings have spikes lining the back, stretching out to beat the air, an intimidating rumble rolling from his chest.

Before he can stop her Lady darts out from between Harry's ankles. She bounds across the dirt in quick leaps, and lands in front of the much larger dragon, a minuscule ball of hissing, spitting challenge. Kevin seems taken aback, blinking. The growling cuts off and his spines deflate, smoothing back against his body. 

"Bloody hell." One of the other riders comments, a murmur of agreement swelling among the squad. One boy laughs and shakes his head, "Fiery little thing you've got mate, careful, Kev could eat her up in one bite."

"Don't scare the kid Payne." Grimshaw scolds, perhaps feeling Harry's horrified flinch. "He'd never. Kevin's a tosser but he's all bark. Much like his partner."

"Oi!" Tomlinson huffs, smirk falling into a petulant scowl. As if to prove the point, the two dragons proceed to sniff each other curiously and begin to purr. Kevin crouches, allowing Lady to climb on top of his head and curl behind his crest. The gathered riders roar with laughter.

"Payne you next." Captain Grimshaw chuckles, and the boy who'd spoken before nods and marches forward, snapping into a rigid stance. 

"Liam James Payne." The boy announces, "Seventeen, Wolverhampton born. This is my dragon Raynor." Liam's dragon is a hulking reptile, with a barrel-like chest and thick, stocky legs, he's got a menacing pair of tusks jutting out to frame his blunt snout, and great plates of armour covering much of his hide. He's a blueish grey with a light dapple pattern and silver eyes. He lumbers forward and tilts his head mildly. Together dragon and rider form a pristine image of military order.

After that the introductions roll forward, names and ages and hometowns blurring together in Harry's mind. Zayn Malik of Bradford stands out for multiple reasons, he's a dark, lovely boy with the biggest dragon of the lot. Noor is magnificent, scales a gradient of brilliant oranges and crimsons, with two sets of wings and gleaming golden horns.

Niall Horan has an odd lilting accent, having travelled from one of the northern territories. "Cináed here's an ocean dweller." Niall explains, stroking a hand down the dragon's tiny yellow scales, so delicate it almost looks perfectly smooth. "Our hive is built right into the sea cliffs. He's a bit clumsy on land but you should see 'im over water. S'nothing else like it."

There are two more boys, Ed and Aiden, and five girls, Cher, Perrie, Jade, Leigh-Anne, and Jesy. Their dragons are all a variety of huge and toothy, in all shapes and colours. Harry an feel himself growing overwhelmed, breath coming a little short by the time Leigh Anne's slender albino dragon puffs a cloud of smoke in greeting. He tries to keep his smile steady, but can feel it slipping off his face. 

Sensing his distress, Lady clambers down from her perch atop Kevin's head and flutters to wrap around Harry's neck. Nick too, seems to realize his youngest troop is flagging and he waves the others off. "So there you know each other's faces at least. Training begins tomorrow at eight sharp, right here. Eight in the morning Malik and not a minute later. I don't want you sleeping in and missing warmup again. Now enjoy the rest of your day off."

Dismissed, Harry's new team falls out of formations and folds in amongst themselves, chatter and laughter echoing around the yard. Harry watches for a moment, unsure of whether he was supposed to join them or not before the Captain slings an arm around his neck and spins them toward the arched door. "Not you Greenhorn, we've still got loads to do. Now let's get along to the tannery and get you kitted out."

 

 

"Sorry." Harry says for the trillionth time today. His brand new leather boots have been steadily working to give him a nasty blister on his heel, and in trying to baby it he's slipped and fallen, landing on his arse in the dirt. "Shit sorry."

Zayn peers down at him from Noor's back, head craned to see over the dragon's muscular haunches. "Y'alright?" 

"Fine." Harry winces, toddling to his feet and brushing off his flight suit. His bum is starting to throb from the multiple tumbles. He drags in a shaky breath and squints up, flexing his fingers before trying again. Grabbing the thick straps of Noor's saddle, his knuckles protected from the diamond-like scales by thick gloves, he braces his foot against her flank and heaves himself up. 

Even flat on her belly the dragon is twice as tall as Harry, and it's dishearteningly difficult to hoist himself up. He has yet to make it without a boost from Zayn. "Mate I'd tell you to just climb up her tail," The older boy says sympathetically, "but rules are that you can't fly until you can mount and dismount properly."

"No it's fine, that makes sense." Harry grunts. He pauses to readjust his hold, tentatively uncurling one hand at a time to grip higher up on the saddle. He spares a longing glance at Noor's tail, and the perfect handholds her spinal ridges would make all the way up her back. 

"This is-" he wheezes brokenly, "a really big dragon."

Zayn laughs softly. Everything about him is soft, his voice, his warm brown eyes, the carefully deliberate way he moves. So far Harry likes him a lot. "S'cause she's an old lady." He says, patting his dragon's shoulder, "quite a bit older than normal to have chosen a rider. They generally only leave the flock in adolescence. Noora's near a hundred years old."

"Wow." Harry murmurs, looking at the dragon with a fresh wave of awe. No wonder she's so massive. Dragons don't really ever stop aging. They slow down after about a century but ancients have been known to reach mountainous proportions. "Do you know why?"

Zayn smiles with closed lips and shrugs. "My ma says it's because I've got an old soul. Since our dragons are supposed to be our soulmates and all."

"Huh. Wonder what that says about me." Harry muses, eyes on Lady. The little green dragon had spent the entirety of his struggle napping in Zayn's lap. She blinks lazily at his words and flicks her forked tongue out at him. He sticks his out in return. 

"Hmm small but formidable. She's a spunky little thing. Would be a mistake to underestimate her." Zayn taps his chin, "sounds about right to me."

Harry beams. 

 

 

"We are not warriors." Captain Grimshaw paces leisurely across the stone floor, clicking the heels of his polished black boots, "Despite what some assholes around here like the think, the purpose of the King's Corps is not to go about starting shit with our neighbours. We are at peace and have been for generations, there is no need for a bloody dragon army. That being said, you are expected to master basic combat."

Harry looks wearily at the rack on the far wall. Axes and knives, a bow and quiver, as well as several swords glint innocently in the low winter sun. "Now," the Captain continues, "generally nobody messes with us as the two tonne beasts of claws and teeth and fire tend to keep 'me away. But once and a while we do encounter bandits, or mercenaries, the like. On the rare occasion that they are foolish enough to engage, you need to be able to defend yourself. Have you any experience at all with weapons?"

Harry looks at his toes. "No."

The captain doesn't look all that surprised. "Nothing? No friendly knife play between lads in the village? No handling axes in the woods? Hunting?"

Harry shakes his head again. "I was the baker's apprentice." He admits, face burning. "I baked bread. And cakes."

"Well a butter-knife just isn't going to cut it I'm afraid. Pun intended." Grimshaw chuckles at his own joke. Harry's getting the impression that the man is rather fond of his own voice. "But that does explain some things. Bakers don't do much in terms of physical exercise do they?"

Ouch. Harry wraps his arms around his middle protectively. "I helped carry the grain and flour in." He defends weakly, "they're really heavy."

"Okay but that bit o' lifting doesn't cancel out all the taste- testing does it kid? I'm not trying to be harsh Harry," he says, probably spotting how his chin has begun to quiver tearfully. "I'm just trying to see what I'm working with. Riders have to be in peak form, it's a tough life. Zayn told me you struggled with mounting up this morning."

Harry nods, tilting his head so that his hair hides his damp eyes and burning cheeks. "It's fine kid, everyone has trouble getting started. But you have a lot of work ahead of you before you're fit for active duty. A sack of flour might be heavy, but those swords?" He points, "those are heavier. Plus you'll be lugging around your flight suit and gear, you'll be handling the dragons' tack. And flying isn't just sitting your arse in a saddle. It's hard. Do you understand?" Harry gives a jerky nod. 

"Hey chin up, it's not so bad." Grimshaw elbows him, "In fact here's Liam here to get you started. He'll help you with exercises to build up your strength. We'll get you in order in no time."

 

 

His body is one giant ache; there's not a piece of him that doesn't hurt. His feet hurt where he'd dropped the weights Liam had him lifting on his toes. His legs hurt from running laps of the training yard, his abs from the endless sit-ups, his arms from climbing all over Noor with Zayn. The blisters from his boots had popped, leaving his heels a bloody mess of open sores. All of this cumulates in a great headache to top the day off. 

Pulling his foot into his lap, Harry tentatively dabs ointment on the raw skin, hissing at the touch of his own fingers. Tears spring unbidden, partially from the pain and partially from sheer emotional exhaustion. He misses his family, misses their little house at the edge of their village, misses his cat and his friends and everything he's ever known. 

Wrapping gauze around his foot Harry allows the tears to fall for the first time all day. There's nobody else in the stables at this time of night, nobody to hear the cries that wrench from his lungs. Just Lady, who chirps in what Harry likes to think is an effort to comfort him. She hooks her class in his tunic and nuzzles under his chin. It might just be a bid for attention, but. Harry's grateful nonetheless. 

After a bland dinner with the other trainees, Harry had come to the dragon stables instead of his assigned quarters. Since there was an odd number of boys, he was placed in a room by himself. And dragons were strictly forbidden from the residences, even one as little as Lady. Overwhelmed by loneliness Harry had lasted a mere minute alone before coming down here. 

The stables for the trainee riders are separate from the rest of the corps, a smaller building constructed from brick and stone which amplifies every sound. The sound of his quiet crying reverberates in the dark room, over the half-wall that divides Lady's slot from the dragons on either side. At a particularity loud sob, there a rustle and scrape, and then there's a pair of eyes glowing down at him from the neighbouring stall. 

Harry clamps a hand over his mouth. "S-sorry!" He hiccups. The dragon obviously doesn't reply. It tilts it's head to the side before moving again, claws clattering and wings snapping it scales the wall and lands in Lady's pen, scattering the loose hay piled in the corner. Harry scuttles back fearfully, pressing himself against the far wall.

Lady however, doesn't seem scared. She hums and wriggles out of Harry's arms to greet the intruder. Squinting, Harry recognizes the shape of the dragon's horns. "Kevin." He sighs, somewhat relieved. At least it's a familiar dragon. "What are you doing here, go back to your own nest."

The dragon belches and pays Harry no heed. Instead it lumbers toward him, swinging it's long tail behind it. Turning a full rotation of the pen it sinks to the ground, folding it's wings and letting out a smoky sigh. 

Harry stares, unsure of what to do. The dragon is so big it takes up most of the room. Lady makes the decision for him, butting up against the back of his knees, steering him to the curve formed by Kevin's body. Harry obediently collapses, shifting so that he's not being pricked by any wayward spikes. Lady looks extremely pleased as she settles down between Harry and Kevin, curling into a tight little ball and apparently going right to sleep.

Harry drifts off not long after, to the sound of low reptilian snores. Feeling not quite so alone.

 

 

Louis finds them five days later. 

In five days things have gotten...not better exactly but they do progress. A routine is established starting in the morning where Zayn tutors him on the terminology and protocols of riding. Apparently he's the best at the technical knowledge and Noor is the most patient of the dragons and that's why they'd been suckered into coaching him. 

He works out with Liam at noon, sharing a quick meal of jerky and dark grainy bread before hitting the ground. It hasn't stopped being agony, but Harry is growing to appreciate that the pain symbolizes his effort, that it's something to chase. 

The afternoons are when the trainees run drills together. Harry got to watch once, from one of the towers. It was breathtaking, the eleven dragons soaring in formation across the sky, performing elaborate maneuvers, shooting at targets both grounded and airborne with bows and water bombs. But that was just the first day, during that time Harry gets one-on-one time with the very old, very crabby bookkeeper. The Corps headquarters has it's own private library filled with tomes and treatises on everything to do with dragons and the riders. 

History of the corps is linked acutely to that of the country, so Harry gets to read dull passage after passage detailing the deeds of past kings and their riders. There's also the mythological history, dragon biology and behaviour, foreign dragon relations, every topic under the sun that could be vaguely linked to dragons. 

The bookkeeper is a decrepit retired captain who is definitely bitter about having to babysit Harry. Since he's the final member of team Grimshaw, they're rushing his education along faster than it normally would go. It feels like since he became a rider he's spent more time with books than with his dragon. The bookkeeper (who'd ordered Harry to just call him Sir) is absolutely the person he's spent the most quality time with. And all of Harry's attempts at small talk have been met with growls and glares, save for one lengthy rant about how far the quality of recruits has declined since his day. 

Mealtimes are the only real opportunity to bond with his new companions. Liam and Zayn are kind enough to try and include him in conversation, but it's impossible to ignore how he's the odd one out of every conversation. The rest of them have been together for months, some of them for years. They have inside jokes and easy chemistry and shared memories that have banter flowing over the dinner table and straight over Harry's head. 

So he's still lonely and he's still spending each night cuddling with two reptiles. Lady doesn't even bother going to her own pen anymore, as she and Kevin are apparently best friends now. They're very spiky bedfellows but it soothes the tightness in Harry's heart to feel their wordless companionship.

It's still pitch black when Harry is dragged from slumber. He struggles blindly for a minute, trashing about in the nest of hay and moaning in fear. There's something in the pen with them and that something yelps and comes crashing down on top of him. 

"What the fooking- ouch stop that!" Harry freezes, fingers tangled in hair and foot planted in an unidentified but soft and squishy body part.

"L-Louis?" He gasps, blinking furiously as his eyes adjust. 

"Yes it's me! Could you kindly remove your spindly toes from my bullocks? Thanks a heap."

"Sorry!" Harry says, shuffling away as best he can in the confined space. Louis grunts and rolls off him, clambering half on top of Kevin to put some distance between them. 

There's rustling, Louis grunts, "Oi, light!" and Kevin grumbles out a couple sparks onto the torch Louis pulls out of his jacket. Flame lights the cramped stall, sending shadows dancing into the rafters. Louis glowers balefully down at him. Harry is very conscious of how he must look, bushy hair full of straw, eyes puffy from sleep. "What the hell Styles?" He demands, "what are you doing in my pen?"

Harry hopes his blush isn't visible in the firelight. He crosses his arms defensively, "They wouldn't let me have Lady in my room. And I don't have a roommate. I just wanted some company is all."

Louis cocks his head and surveys Harry with narrowed eyes. He looks a bit like a dragon himself, sharp features piercing from his perch. He's balanced gingerly over the dragon's spiny hide, holding himself so he doesn't get pricked with practiced ease. "So you're here." He drawls skeptically, "sleeping in the stable."

Harry can't stand that expression, feels like he might combust into a smoldering heap of humiliation if he keeps eye contact for one more second. It's the same way this boy had looked at him on the first day, raised eyebrow, scornful, teeth bared. He reaches out for Lady but of course she's out of reach, draped over Kevin's folded forelegs. 

"'S better than being alone." He mumbles, fidgeting with a stalk of hay, peeling dry bits away in strips. 

Louis hums, and when Harry peeks back up his face has soften a tad, more thoughtful than judging. "That's fair I guess." He moves, sliding down Kevin's wing to plop in the hay. His knee nudges Harry's. "I would kill to have me own room though. Niall is a bloody awful mate. He's got Cher in there every other bloody night. S'why I needed to get away."

Harry's confused for all of thirty seconds before the implication sinks in and his face is on fire again. "O-oh!" He stutters, "they're...together? I didn't know."

Louis shrugs, "They're Niall and Cher. Put them in a room together with some mead and there's no way to stop them. It's not like they're going to get married or anything. Just young and beautiful people living life you know?"

Harry doesn't know, "My village was pretty small." He admits. "Everybody knew everybody. If something...improper happened word would spread in a day. And like, your parents would hear about it. If anyone wanted to do...that...they had to get married basically or risk becoming the village scandal."

Louis laughs, loud in the darkness. Harry has heard him laugh before, he and Niall tend to cause a ruckus every night in the dining hall, and his elated whoops and hollers can be heard echoing around the compound throughout the day. But he's never laughed for Harry. It feels like a significant accomplishment, and he can see why the others always seem to be trying to make it happen. "I remember." He giggles, leaning back against Kevin and sprawling his legs. "Doncaster is similar. Not quite as small I don't think but everyone is horribly gossipy. Lots of old nans with keen hearing and eagle eyes. It's so different here it's easy to forget."

"Yeah?" Harry hasn't had a chance to leave the compound yet. He'd passed through the city on his way in, but the escorts had wished him through the streets without pause and he's been longing to explore properly. "That kind of thing is okay here?"

"I wouldn't say that it's okay exactly." Louis says, "But London is just too big to keep track of everyone. We're all insignificant and nobody would give a shit that some trainee riders are doin' each other outta wedlock. Things just don't matter as much."

"I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

Another burbling laugh. "In my opinion it's great. There's so much freedom, and sure some people are gonna take advantage of that to be shitty but honestly it's better."

"So you don't miss it...Doncaster?" Harry can't imagine not seeing his family for years; a week has been bad enough. 

"Not really. I miss things about it, my family and friends of course, the crick behind the schoolhouse, my Nan's pies. But all of those things are just bits and pieces of it. I miss little individual things about Doncaster but I don't miss it as a whole. And anyway, as soon as I get homesick enough to go back, it reminds me of all the shitty parts all over again."

Harry starts, mouth falling open in confusion, "Go back? What do you mean? I thought..." It was an official rule, that trainees aren't allowed to go home until after their full initiation. Captain Grimshaw had said something about it building loyalty and preventing distraction. But Louis snorts at his surprise.

"You don't think that we actually listen to them do you? Harold we have fucking dragons. They can travel across England in a couple days if they fly full speed, a little detour after a border mission is nothing. We all go home all the time."

The figurative metal bands that have been squeezing Harry's heart since hugging his mum goodbye melt away. "Really?" He asks, elated. "That's...that's something you guys do?"

"Of course!" Louis exclaims, crossing his arms. "You think I was going to leave my girls alone for four bloody years? Like hell! In that time Dais and Phee would barely remember me, and Lottie would have gone off and got married. I'd never leave them like that."

Harry can't help the grin that overcomes his face, eyes crinkling and cheeks aching with it. "That's...that's brilliant! That's the best news ever. How often do you do it? When can I go home?"

"Hold on rookie, you've not even got yourself on a dragon yet, let alone up in the air. You've got ages to go before you can even leave London let alone go on an unchaperoned mission."

Harry's newly freed heart drops. It's been a week and he has yet to successfully mount Noor by himself. Liam and Zayn both insist that he just needs to build enough arm and shoulder strength, but Harry's limbs still look just as scrawny, they just hurt a lot more. Each time he stands beside the hulking dragon it feels like he's expected to climb a mountain without any ropes or tools. 

Louis must see the despair in his face because he kicks out with one foot, bare despite the cold, and nudges his hip. "Don't look so glum! It'll pass in no time and you'll be flyin' with the rest of us."

"I just miss them so much!" Harry says, voice embarrassingly shaky. "I don't know, I feel so small here, like I could just fade away and nobody would care!"

Louis clucks "now that's just silly, you've got us now don't ya? We're a team but were also a family, and we look out for one and other. And you've got your little lass there," he nods at where Lady is snoring small puffs of smoke in the curve of Kevin's neck. "She chose to come all this way with you, left her family too. We're all together now, lonely little misfits."

Harry nods, but his throat is still sore like he's about to cry. They fall into a morose silence, and somewhere between one teary blink and the next Harry falls into a bruise tender sleep. 

 

 

Noor really is a magnificent animal. Objectively Harry can appreciate that. Her scales are large and thick, almost shaped like cut gems, and with the same iridescent quality. The legend of dragons being born of the fires in the centre of the earth seem to be captured in her, in the flickering colours of her side, from deep magenta to warm gold and every hue between. She's so large that she's got two set of wings, a larger pair set atop her muscular shoulders, and a slightly smaller pair set lower back that tuck below when folded, necessary to propel her massive body through the sky. 

But looking at her now fills him with a hollow sort of dread. Since talking to Louis the night before Harry's felt both better and worse. Better because now there's something to strive for, a light amidst the unfamiliar fog. But worse because now that he knows he'll be able to see his family once he gets his act together, every failure feels even worse. 

"Maybe if you just try using your legs a bit..." Zayn suggests kindly, sliding gracefully down his dragon's knee to land beside Harry. He pats the scales along her flank and gestures, "if you can just brace there, maybe twisting a bit will be easier? And then your hands are free to move there..."

The dark haired boy does just that, springing upward and levering up the animal's side like it's nothing, his actions smooth and effortless. He makes it look so easy. When Harry attempts to copy him his knees get all tangles and he ends up hanging upside down, foot caught under the leather saddle strap. His body just isn't built to move that way. 

Captain Grimshaw seems to be thinking along he same line. "I'm not actually sure if this is just a strength problem." He muses from where he's sat in his own saddle. His dragon Beast is a dark lavender Longwing with distinctive spiral horns. She'd seemed kind of aloof when the Captain had introduced her, neck held high to gaze down with cool light purple eyes. Lady had given her fore-claws a sniff but shown no further sign of interest. 

Harry's not sure what he means, if it's not a strength problem what good is all the training with Liam? Are they just a waste of time? He braces his sweaty, rope-burned palms on his knees and tries to catch his breath. When over the pounding of his heart he hears the now familiar sound of wing-beats approaching. He looks up in time to see Kevin glide smoothly to the ground, Louis hopping off before he's fully landed. 

"Morning lads!" He chirps, pushing his goggles back on his head. He's rather disheveled, hair bushy and chin stubbled. He's not even got his proper suit on, just plain leggings and a loose shirt untied at the neck. His feet are even bare, toes frighteningly unprotected from Kevin's razer tipped scales. His gloves and goggles look out of place against the plain clothes. 

"Tomlinson! Fancy seeing you out of bed at this hour! Have the pigs started flying too then?" Grimshaw calls, voice sharp and more nasally than usual. Harry's noticed that he does that with Louis, tone and demeanor changing slightly when they interact. Louis too puffs up visible, tilting his chin and narrowing his eyes. It's funny because Beast seems to feel the opposite, relaxing and tilting towards Kevin, purring out a greeting. The blue dragon ignores her in favour of sidling over to Lady, leaning down so that the smaller dragon can climb onto his head. Lady chirps and chews lazily on his bridle. 

Louis rolls his eyes at their Captain, stretching and ruffling the back of his head, making his hair even more disheveled. "Right, good morning to you too Nicolas." He drawls carelessly, brushing past the man to stand beside Harry. "Alright?" He asks with a firm pat on the back that nearly spends Harry toppling forward out of his crouch. "Bloody hell boys look at this poor lad! You've near killed him!"

"Piss off Lou." Zayn mumbles, but can't disguise how his face softens fondly. "This is a private tutorial."

"Yeah well I have come with a proposition." Louis declares, stooping to grab at Harry's armpits and force him to stand. "This is no way to treat our beloved Greenhorn." He continues, draping his arm over his shoulders. "Look at him, worn ragged and disheartened. A pathetic spindle armed little fellow!"

"Hey!" Harry protests, pouting. Louis flicks his jaw. 

"My proposition is thus-" he cries, painfully loud in Harry's ear, "that this is a lost cause. A failed mission, a pipe dream. This kid is never going to ride this dragon. So the only logical thing to do next is plan B."

He pauses, raised brows at his audience of two. Captain Grimshaw is scowling darkly, while Zayn looks thoughtful. "What are you on about?" Grimshaw snaps, and Louis sighs long-sufferingly.

"Dear simple Nicky." He clicks, gesturing widely with his free hand. The other three follow his motion to where Kevin sits, blinking back at them. The dragon bears his teeth a rumbles. "I'm saying that Harold should ride with me."

Harry's heart leaps and his eyes dart back to the Captain, pleading. Kevin isn't a small dragon exactly, but his shoulders sit at around six feet when he's crouching, a much more attainable height than Noor's ten. 

But Grimshaw is shaking his head, "There is a reason that we've assigned Styles to ride with Malik. Noor is the largest of all the trainee dragons, the extra weight will be less or a burden for her. That's what was decided."

"All of the dragons have been trained to fly with two riders." Louis insists, "all of the saddles are made to sit double. Kevin is more than capable of carrying both of us. Plus he and little Lady are besties, see?"

As if in agreement the little green dragon squeals shrilly, wrapped like a vice around Kevin's neck. 

"This isn't a democracy Tomlinson, you don't get to vote on these things. It was decided that this was what was best for Styles' education and this is what's going to happen-"

"That's idiotic." Louis interrupts. He drags Harry sideways towards their dragons. "Watch this! Harry mount Kevin. Show them how stupid they're being."

Harry blushes, aware of the fact that Louis just technically committed treason since the riders corps belong to the king, and every decision passed by the council is an extension of royal decree. But the boy shoves him forward, and he stumbles against Kevin's flank. Hesitating only for a second he grasps the belly-strap with one hand, plants his heel on a spike, and hurls himself up. Desperately he lunges for the pommel, fingers slipping hopelessly for a moment before he gets a grip. Wriggling inelegantly he manages to hook his knee over the peak of the saddle so that he's sprawled prone, but somewhat correctly over the leather seat. 

He's so stunned with his long awaited accomplishment that it takes him a few greedy gasps of air before his nerves kick in. He's on a bloody dragon. No longer is it an abstract horizon, he's on a dragon right now, alone and impossibly tiny. It's impossible to ignore the sheer power, the unmistakable presence of the animal between his thighs. He'd known, obviously, that the dragons are living breathing creatures, but it's so much more striking now that he's here. Kevin is a wild animal, with his own mind and free will. And Harry has no idea what to do now. 

Below, Louis is cheering. He's jumping around hollering his head off, probably exaggerating to annoy the Captain. Zayn is more subdued but he's grinning, hands coming together to clap. Terror and exhilaration shoot through Harry and his smile is shaky with chattering teeth. 

A weight hits his chest and he looks down to find Lady plastered to his front. She hooks her claws in his jerkin and shoves her snout in his face, yipping at him in excitement. She leaps away, bounding up Kevin's back before returning to flap a circle around Harry's head. It feels like she's welcoming him, showing off her perch and sharing how great it is. "Thanks little girl." Harry murmurs, hugging her close, "You're right it's really nice up here."

"Alright alright everyone calm down." Grimshaw barks, stomping closer. "You've proved your point Tomlinson, a smaller dragon is easier to climb. Now get down Styles, this doesn't change anything."

Harry swallows nervously, the ground seems very far away. It's silly because it isn't, he's climbed plenty of tree this tall, jumped off cliffs and hills that were higher. He thinks about how Louis had sprung down like it was nothing. Taking a deep breath he swings his leg sideways, pushes up and away and braces for impact. 

He falls, of course, rolling forward onto his elbows. But at least he didn't break his legs. Scrambling to his feet he can't help but to find Louis and beam at him. The older boy hoots and prances forward for a hug. "Yay Harold!" He crows, "dragon rider extraordinaire! You'll be a professional in no time!"

 

~~~

 

Lady whines unhappily, struggling around in Harry's arms. He has to tighten his grip to keep her from chewing on the gaudy bronze plates that are strapped to her back. "Just another hour." He tries to sooth her, scratching under the clunky head piece that had been custom forged just for her. "Please just hang on for one hour and we'll take these stupid things off you."

The Rider Corps are very fond of pomp and ceremony, having been founded centuries ago by the Kings of the Golden Age. It seems like everything they do has some sort of tradition attached to it, most of all being the ritual First Flight. Every rookie rider has to perform the customary march from the school to the Kings amphitheater in full traditional armour. Gathered there are all of the members of the corps that aren't away on assignment, along with the heads of all the nobel families, and the King himself. 

Harry is already exhausted from the march. Even the lightweight flight armour weighs thirty pounds, and since the royal property is atop the highest hill in the city he's drenched with sweat and short of breath. Ears ringing he waits in the shadow of the arched entrance to the theatre while the Commander of the Corps reads the customary opening to the ceremony. Harry barely catches any of the words until the Commander speaks his name, and then he's jolting forward, jogging as smoothly as he can into the giant ring.

The towering walls are hung with rich banners and lush garlands, golden troughs burn with fire around the perimeter of the ring. At the far end the King's podium is lavishly forged of gold and marble, thick awnings heavy with tassels obscure the royal family from view. Harry squints up at them anyway, curious about the monarch he's heard stories of his whole life, the man who is the reason he's here, who ultimately owns him now. 

There's someone calling his name, barely audible above the applause of the spectators. Louis waves, arm glittering with his own ornate gauntlets. Kevin is a sight to behold, spikes sheathed in gold plate, sapphires rimming his fierce eyes. The poor dragon looks as irritable as Harry feels, shaking his wings out with a rattle of metal on metal. 

Normally it would be the Captain who would ride behind the trainee on his first flight. Harry can't help by be glad that it's Louis going with him today. The older boy had done so much for Harry in offering up his partnership in this unusual circumstance. He hadn't had to do it, was actually shoulder a bunch of extra responsibility by taking it on. He's committed to sharing his dragon with Harry for the foreseeable future, their whole careers in the corps. Harry isn't sure he'll ever be able to repay him. 

"Riders mount!" The Commander bellows, voice echoing out over their heads. Like they've been practicing tirelessly, Harry transfers Lady to his shoulder and hoists himself onto Kevin's back. He feels Louis settle in behind him, the older boys arms wrapping around his waist. Adrenaline courses through Harry, throbbing in his ears so loud that he can't hear the orders shouted. He only knows it's time to kick off because Louis squeezes his hip.

They've gone over the technicalities a million times over by now. Putting it into action is surreal, the tug of Kevin lurching forward against the reign, the whirl of air that rushes around them as the dragon unfurls his wings and shakes them loose. They drop lower as the dragon crouches, muscles bunching tangibly against Harry's knees. He springs forward, claws digging into the earth one last time before-

 

 

 

 

 

The winter sun is low on the horizon, and getting lower. The air is below freezing, but Harry can't even feel he sting across his cheeks. The ground steeps up as they bank, gravity tipping and causing his heart to skip. Weightless, he feels weightless. The armour on his back is nothing, the pressure of the crowd below is nothing, missing his family is nothing. There is only sky and beast and man. It's glorious.

Louis is howling with the wind, cheering in Harry's ear. He laughs and says something, words snatched away. Harry can't hear him and doesn't want to. Lady has kept from his shoulder to sail along beside them, her jaw gaping in a cry. They're so high up the horizon curves away in every direction, the planet warped beyond recognition.

This is it, he realizes at once. This is what there is. It wasn't a mistake, wasn't a fluke. This is where he's meant to be. There's no doubt left in his mind. 

He's flying.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want more check out my mini comic set some years in the future: http://rhymeswithmonth.tumblr.com/post/110363305551/page-one-in-which-harrys-dragon-has-been-missing  
> Or invisibleinnocence's dragon au tag: http://invisibleinnocence.tumblr.com/tagged/dungeons-and-dragons-and-direction
> 
> I may write more chapters but no guarantees. 
> 
> My tumblr: http://rhymeswithmonth.tumblr.com


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